Reunion
by Old Fiat
Summary: Someday, we'll meet again..." They had parted ways, bitter and resentful. Fifteen years later, she sees him again, but can they regain the relationship they once had? Troyella, Multi-chapter
1. You Can Run, But You Can't Hide

**Reunion**

Old Fiat

Okay, so I decided to get started on a story which I've been thinking about for a long time. I know this idea has been done before but ages ago I read Jewel2502's story _If Only For a Moment_ and it really had a huge effect on me. I looked at it again recently and began bouncing some ideas around with Old Fiat n. France and this is what's come out of it.

This story is also greatly inspired by Scribbling Wordsmith's fanfic _The Geek In the Pink_ (though this story is quite a bit different than that one and _If Only For a Moment_) and the The Feeling songs "Kettle's On" and "Miss You" (for reasons that will make more sense later) and a load of other songs from their album _Twelve Stops and Home_ which, if you haven't heard any of the songs from it, you must go check out because it's just... perfect. It's wonderful. It's something I listen to a lot while writing and reading fan fictions. Go give it a listen. It's just works so well with _High School Musical_ and most of its characters.

Speaking of the characters of _HSM_, I own none of them. They belong to some guy whose name I don't remember. I barely even own the plot of this story...

Please enjoy and review!

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**Chapter One: You Can Run, but You Can't Hide**

"_Someday, we'll meet again..._"

=---=

_The rain fell heavily as she ran, tears streaming invisibly down her cheeks. She was alone. She couldn't take it anymore. She had been so wrong... so stupid._

_Falling down under a large tree in the park, she collapsed, sobs racking her small frame. _

_Why did everything have to end up so wrong? Why did she have to be the villain in the end?_

_Mud was soaking into her jeans, but she didn't care. She didn't care about anything anymore. She just wanted things to go back to the way they were. _

_As she sat there under the broad branches of the maple, the large leaves providing some protection from the rain, a young man came over to her, his dark brown hair curling slightly from the being wet. He was pale. He was beautiful, with bright blue eyes and even, albeit icy, facial features. She looked up at him and gave a cry of frustration._

_"Oh God, just leave me alone? You were right! Okay? You were right about everything. Just go, Charlie—alright? Just go! I know you hate me and now you have what you want! You have my friends, my family, the whole school in the palm of your hand. You have my whole life wrapped around your finger, alright? Can't you just leave me alone!?"_

_He stared down at her, his expression blank, for a few moments. Then a grin spread across his face._

_"You're so stupid," he said a hint of a chuckle in his voice. The chuckle grew into a laugh and before she could quite understand what was happening, he was sitting beside her, laughing so hard he could barely breathe._

_"What?" she whispered and suddenly, his arms were wrapped around her._

_"I _love_ you," he said, still chuckling, and pressed his lips against hers..._

=-----=-----=

Gabriella Montez had the perfect life.

She had the perfect job, the perfect apartment in the most perfect city in the entire universe, the perfect suits, the perfect shoes and the perfect bachelorette lifestyle. It was all totally and completely perfect.

And she knew it was. She worked as an attorney for two of her best friends from high school and owned a good sized, upper-class apartment in New York City. She loved it. She loved wearing her professional suits and coming home to nothing but a few messages on her message machine and her television. It was the perfect way to live. Well, it was the perfect way for _her_ to live.

She entered her simple, self-decorated apartment and felt herself smile as the familiar smell of lavender and just-washed cotton wafted out of the room. She loved the cream color of the walls, the camel-colored carpeting, the white tiled kitchenette that was separated from the living room by a half wall that she and Ryan had painted a shocking shade of aqua one evening when he and Kelsi were trapped in her apartment due to a downpour. She loved her mostly beige marble bathroom, though it was only about the size of a walk-in closet. And she adored her bedroom with its light blue walls and its white curtains and trim.

Fumbling with the mail she had taken from her postbox in the lobby downstairs as she stripped off her heavy winter coat, she walked over to the worn out, partially collapsed sofa and stretched herself out on top of it. She threw the mail in the basket that sat atop the cherry wood coffee table without bothering to look at any of the envelopes—all she ever got was bills and junk mail—and turned on the television.

As she was about to change the channel, her phone rang. She scrambled to mute the television before jumping up to grab the phone from its cradle on the mantle.

"Hello, this is Gabriella Montez speaking," she said, her tone indicating that she had said this countless times before. "May I please ask who's calling?"

"_Hey Gabriella, its Ryan._"

"Oh hey, Ryan." She sat back down on the couch and fiddled with the edge of the turquoise blanket draped over the worn upholstery. "What's up?"

"_Nothing much,_" he said and she could almost see him give his usual little shrug as he walked around his spacious penthouse. "_I was just wondering if you got your invitation._"

"To what?" asked Gabriella, taking the remote again and resuming her search through the channels.

"_Um... Have you even looked at your mail yet?_"

"Not exactly..." She set down the remote on the floor and picked up the pile of letters once more. "Uh... Bill, bill, bill, catalog, junk... uh..." she stalled as she flipped through the stack. "Oh!"

"_So you got it?_" She could picture his smirk as he listened to her go through her mail.

Scoffing, she set the other letters beside her on the couch and tore open the envelope which said on the back 'Principal Horatio, East High School'. Inside was written in clear, black type—

_Ms. Gabriella Montez—You are invited to attend the fifteen-year reunion of the class of 2007 at East High School, Albuquerque, New Mexico on the 22nd of February. Come to the gymnasium in the Adrian Park's building at 6:30 PM. This is a black tie event. Yours, Principal Jennifer Horatio._

"Oh..." she breathed gazing down at the thick, parchment-style paper in her hands. Her heart pounded and she felt her throat close.

"_You going to go?_" Ryan asked, his tone casual in contrast to the butterflies filling her stomach.

"Um... I... uh... I don't know," she answered slowly. She felt as though her mind had been flipped. She didn't want to go back to East High. She hated the thought of seeing Albuquerque again. She would never admit it aloud, but the idea terrified her. She hated just thinking about leaving her perfect life, even for only a day or two. She couldn't go. She wouldn't go.

"_You don't know? What does that mean?_" Ryan was laughing. He loved to laugh at her, even when he should have been taking the situation very seriously. It wasn't insulting, and normally she didn't mind and would joke with him about it, but at that moment, she didn't want to be laughed at. The sound echoed around her head and caused her face to flush.

"I... uh... I..." she stammered. She had to put herself in order. She couldn't let just the thought of _him _cause this kind of desolation. _You're speaking to Ryan,_ she chanted silently. _To Ryan, not to Troy._ "I... don't think I'll go."

"_What?_"

"I don't think I'll go. I have a lot of things I have to get done in New York."

"_Gabriella, it's in a month,_" Ryan said slowly, as though speaking to a child. The vocal smirk had returned and it sent a strange sort of chill down her spine.

"Well, what if I have stuff to do then?"

"_Then I'd let you stay here, but if not I will physically _drag_ you to Albuquerque. I thought you liked it there—is something up?_"

Gabriella breathed deeply in preparation to respond, but her answer was stopped by a series of clatters and the sound of a voice saying, '_Oh God, give me the phone, you insensitive..._' A moment later, Kelsi's soft voice crackled through the receiver.

"_Gabriella, I know what you're thinking and I won't force you to go, but you know—going back to Albuquerque for a few days won't make you any weaker—_"

At this point Gabriella could hear Ryan say, "_What are you talking about?_", but Kelsi continued regardless.

"—_And I know you're worried about seeing Troy, but what are the chances of him being there? I mean, the guy has to be super busy. I know you're always busy too, but think about it for a moment; Chad and Taylor will probably be there and you and Taylor haven't seen each other since me and Ryan's wedding and haven't spoken in about a year. All our friends will be there and we'll get to see them again, even if we fell out of contact a long time ago..._"

"If I went, do you think—" Her voice was getting a little thick and she mentally slapped herself. Clearing her throat, she started again, her tone even. "If I went... If..." She groaned, not knowing how to express herself.

"_Come on, Gabi,_" Kelsi pleaded and Gabriella could almost picture her puppy dog expression that she used so often on Ryan. "_Please?_"

She took a deep breath, considering. As she thought, she looked around the living room, at the photograph of herself, Kelsi and Ryan on the mantel. It was from the day before their wedding, almost four years ago. Kelsi had been so sweet and Ryan had been so nervous, but in the picture they both seemed so gentle and calm as they smiled at the camera with Gabriella beside them, her own smile a little crooked as she'd been caught off-guard by Chad and his digital camera.

In different frames beside the photo, there were three other pictures—one of her and her mother from her mother's last visit in front of the Statue of Liberty; one of Gabriella and two of her friends, Kayc and Steven, who worked for the same law firm as she did, from when they went out to dinner with Ryan and Kelsi; and one from the summer after high school had ended that showed her, Taylor, Chad, Jason, Martha, Sharpay, Ryan and Zeke laughing together as they sat at the edge of the Evans' private pool. All of them had taken off their shoes and dangled their feet in the clear blue water. Kelsi had insisted on taking the picture, claiming that she wasn't photogenic and didn't want her photograph taken, but the whole group of friends, excluding Ryan, had known that it was because she was too nervous to sit near the boy who she wasn't sure was her friend or her boyfriend.

Gabriella sighed. "Sure," she said finally and Kelsi gave a little squeal of excitement.

"_Thank you so much, Gabriella! This is going to be so fun. We have to go shopping tomorrow with Ryan—_" Kelsi babbled ecstatically for a few minutes and Gabriella found herself giving monosyllabic responses. Her head was a little foggy from remembering, making it difficult to hear anything, including her own thoughts. She woke up a little when Kelsi cut herself off mid-sentence to say, "_Oh, Ryan wants to talk to you. Thank you so much, Gabi! I'd be way too nervous to go to this thing with just Ryan!_"

"No problem," said Gabriella, trying to smile.

Ryan's voice now came through the line, his even way of speaking calming her a little. "_Thanks, Gabriella, this is going to be a lot of fun with you with us._"

"It's nothing," she said in response, biting her lip as the lie left her mouth.

"_Hey, do you want to go out to dinner tonight? Kelsi and I have nothing in our fridge and I bet you're in the same situation._"

Gabriella laughed. "Yeah, I was just planning on ordering Chinese or something, but a night out sounds fun."

"_Yeah, and when was the last time you had one? About a millennium ago, right?_"

"Ha ha, Evans," she said sarcastically. "You're one to talk, Mr. 'I'd-rather-stay-in-with-my-wife-and-never-see-my-best-friend-since-high-school."

Ryan chuckled. "_See you in half an hour. Kelsi and I will come around to your place._"

"No, no—it's fine. I'll go to yours. It's easier that way. There are, like, no restaurants near my apartment."

"_What are you talking about? There are a bunch of restaurants on your street._"

"Read as: 'There are no _good_ restaurants near my apartment.'" Gabriella smiled as Ryan's laugh filled the speaker.

"_You're nuts. See you in thirty minutes._"

"See you," she said and hung up the phone. As she set it back on its cradle, she looked at the photograph of her and the other 'Wildcats', as they had been called. One couldn't see it from the old, collapsing sofa, but around Gabriella's shoulders, a tan, muscled arm was draped. She picked up the simple, dark wooden frame. It was almost impossible to see and she probably wouldn't have noticed it unless she had known about it before. She sat there by the pool at the right edge of the picture—her toned legs splashing in the water, the light-weight, gold and white sun dress draping in a flattering empire style, her dark hair curling into dozens of little ringlets from the humidity. She was giggling and beaming ecstatically, her cheeks flushed from the undying excitement being so close to the boy who had his arm around her.

Gabriella flipped the frame over in her hands and opened the back. Slipping the photograph out from behind the glass, she looked down at it. She'd been such a stupid girl, thinking that her life would just be perfect from that day on. One had to work for perfection. She understood that now.

The right edge of the photo had been folded over many years before and now she carefully bent it back, unfolding it. There he sat beside her, his arm around her shoulders and his still-charmingly crooked, awkwardly broad grin in place. His bright blue eyes were enhanced by the turquoise water and the light gray-blue, shot-sleeved, button-up shirt that he wore with a white t-shirt beneath and swimming trunks. His cheeks were an odd shade of fuchsia from the burn he had acquired earlier that day and the kiss Gabriella had bestowed on his lips mere moments before the picture was taken. His hair, with its natural highlights from spending the whole day outside in the sun, was windswept, rumpled, spiky and tangled from being quickly towel dried an hour before being photographed.

He was so handsome—in an awkward, teenage boy sort of way—and at the time he had seemed so gentle and sweet. He had known exactly what to say to make her smile, to make her laugh. He had blushed easily and laughed even easier. And she had fallen for him—tumbled head over heels and never worried about anything ever going wrong. How _could_ anything have gone wrong? Her life had seemed perfect.

Gabriella placed the photograph roughly back in its frame and slammed it on the mantel before going off to her room to change for dinner—Troy's bright eyes and sweet smile still in the front of mind.

=-----=-----=

His home was open and airy. There were very few exterior walls and instead large, floor-to-ceiling windows gave him a view of the valley and some of the surrounding woods. There were no doors in the downstairs, excluding one which led to the outside. Instead, there were just enormous openings in the walls that stretched up to the ceiling and connected the rooms. There was a long, white wall that separated the two hemispheres of the house. It broke off before before reaching the window at the other end, creating an enormous doorway which led to the front door and the staircase to the second floor. The other side of the house held the kitchen and dining room, which flowed strangely into each other.

Light bounced bounced around the living room, rebounding off the large painting that hung on the wall, a confusing spread of black lines on a stark white canvas. He sat down on the white leather sofa that stretched across the room in a length that he found somewhat unnecessary and then bent near one of the enormous windows in an 'L'-shape. There were also a few arm chairs scattered throughout the room which he always found himself moving around when he was in the house. The whole set up was placed on top of a large white rag rug with a few glass topped coffee tables placed by the arms of the chairs and one larger one in the center. Mounted against the one wall that protected the structure from the outside, which stood opposite the other wall, was a wide, flat screen television and an extravagant stereo set up.

He didn't like the house. It was too big for him and in the five years that had passed since he purchased it, left for half a year to shoot a film and handed it over to a professional interior designer, he had only really spent seven months in the building all together. He was rarely at home and he didn't really consider it his home at all. It felt more like a building which he stayed in from time to time and stored some of his things in. He hated it.

As he sat there, trying to relax after the exhausting flight from Quebec, he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and flipped it open.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice a little groggy.

"_Troy? This is Gray._"

Troy winced at his agent's harsh Chicago accent. "Yeah? What's up? I just got back."

"_You're at your house?_"

"Uh... yeah? Where else would I be—the garbage can outside Starbucks?"

"_Honestly, that would not surprise me. I've just come through the gates—can you let me in?_"

Troy pushed himself up from the couch and walked heavily towards the door. "Maybe. It depends on what you're here for." He undid the security lock on the door and swung it open in time to see Gray Williams' silver Porsche glide up the drive and come to a rest by his own black Mustang.

"Hey!" Gray called as he stepped out of the car, closing his phone and straightening his suit as he walked over to the front steps.

Troy closed his own phone and dropped it back into his jeans pocket. The skin beneath his blue eyes was slightly gray from lack of sleep and his black sport's coat was wrinkled from the flight. He leaned against the door frame as the only slightly older man jogged over to him. The two walked into the living room and Troy sat back down on the sofa and Gray dropped into one of the matching armchairs that sat nearby.

"Where's that maid of yours?" he asked, rubbing his oddly pale hands together.

Troy shrugged. "I only got home twenty minutes ago. She might have taken the day off while I wasn't here."

Gray scoffed and ran his hand over his perfectly styled dark brown hair. "Okay... On another topic, I got a letter for you about a week ago."

"My mail is sent to you while I'm away," Troy said in a slightly sarcastic monotone. "Is this really that surprising?"

"This isn't a bill or some other crap," Gray explained as he reached into the inside pocket of his black suit coat. He pulled out a plain, white envelope and waved it at Troy. "_This_ is some thing really, really, _really_..." He paused, trying to find the right word. "...Important."

Troy raised one eyebrow dubiously and slowly got up from the sofa. "If it's as important as you say it is, I might need a drink before I read it."

Gray followed his client as he walked through the somewhat _too_ modernly decorated dining room to the large kitchen.

"Troy," he said, his hands shaking a little as he fumbled with the letter. "You've become a sort of... rebellious... 'bad boy' type as of late—"

"'_Bad boy_'?" Troy repeated questioningly, glancing at Gray over his shoulder without breaking his stride. "How can I be a '_bad boy_'? I'm thirty-three years old!"

"I don't know! Let me finish!"

They entered the kitchen. Troy opened the large, steel refrigerator and pulled out two bottles of beer. He held one out to Gray.

"You want one?"

"It's four in the afternoon," his agent pointed out, folding his arms.

Troy rolled his eyes and placed one of the bottles back in the refrigerator and popped open the other one. "Yeah well, my mind is telling me that it's eight o'clock in the evening so I don't know how much it really matters."

"Anyway!" Gray half-shouted. "I don't like this... this 'persona'! Producers and casting directors usually like to use well-known actors, but they _don't_ like ones that have 'issues'—such as commitment problems, partying crap and... and stuff like that! Paparazzi princes almost _never_ get good roles, haven't you noticed that?"

"Come on..." Troy shook his head and took a sip of beer.

Gray pointed to the bottle in his hand. "Did you eat anything before drinking that?"

"Oy vey," he groaned and brought his shoulders back to crack his spine. "I pulled through McDonald's on my way from LAX. It was nearly impossible to do, alright? Can't you finish whatever the hell you were talking about? I can't even remember how we got on this subject _again_."

"I want to clean up your act," Gray said, pushing his frameless glasses further up his nose. "I want you to stop this late-night partying... all these one-date girlfriends. It's damaging to your career!"

"Gray, I just got back from shooting a _movie_. I think I have a some kind of career going on."

"Yeah! But what about after, Troy?" Gray half-shouted, his voice bouncing a little off the walls. "As your agent, I really think you should heed my advice!"

"You know, I probably should," Troy said, nodding a little as though considering the notion. "Come on. Knock it off, Gray."

"I will _not_ knock it off, Troy! If I see you go out clubbing at all this week, I'm going to be so mad I... I..." He struggled for a few moments, furious that words had failed him. "Look," he said after taking a few calming breaths. "I'm trying to look out for you. I really think that this is a good idea. Of course, it's a free country and, in theory, you can do whatever you want, but I don't like the way you've been acting lately. I think it's bad not just for your career, but it's bad for you, too."

Troy stared out one of the windows and leaned on the black marble counter, his expression blank and cold. He felt a little tug of guilt somewhere in his chest. Gray had been his agent for almost ten years. He looked after Troy and helped him get to auditions and aided him in becoming a well-known actor. He was no longer just his agent. He was his friend too.

"The letter I got while you were gone was from a Ms. Jennifer Horatio," Gray said as he pulled the letter out of the envelope.

"I don't know her," Troy said, taking another swig of beer and pushing some of his hair out of his eyes.

"Really?" asked Gray, setting the envelope on the island in the middle of the kitchen floor. "Because she's the principal of your old high school."

"Where? East High?" Troy turned back towards him and saw a glint of satisfaction in Gray's pale blue eyes as Troy became suddenly interested. Gray nodded and look back down at the letter.

"It says you've been invited to your fifteen-year high school reunion," he read, a smile pulling at one side of his mouth. "It's on February 22nd and I want you to go."

"No way," Troy laughed, shaking his head. "There's no way I'm facing that crowd again."

"Why? I think this is a good chance to really create a new Troy Bolton. You can see all your old friends again and maybe... I don't know... start talking to them again. I think you need some people that are your friends for more than a day." He looked seriously at Troy. "And while I would like to think I'm counted as one of your friends, I'm also your agent and, as such, I _demand_ that you go to this reunion."

"No freaking way," Troy said, still grinning disbelievingly. "Never in hell am I going to talk to them again."

"Come on!"

"Oh, what a convincing argument!" Troy joked sarcastically. "And what does this even have to do with cleaning up my act?"

Gray sighed. "I'd hoped that maybe if you connected with some old friends—hopefully your parents, too—that you'd be a bit happier and that that might help you not feel the _need_ to go out and be stupid all the time." Troy shot him a glare before taking another drink.

"I will _not_ go back there. There's no way. I refuse. I don't want to talk to any of my old friends or least of all my parents." With that, he pushed himself off the counter and strode back to the living room, Gray hurrying along behind.

"But it will be good for you! Come on—just think of it as a little vacation after shooting, relax a bit. It's freaking Albuquerque—they won't kill you or anything."

"Yeah right!" Troy called over his shoulder as they entered the living room.

Gray sat down in one of the armchairs and, as Troy lowered himself onto the couch, said, "Troy, seriously, what's the harm? The thing is in a few weeks and it will give you a bit of time to think about things. The future isn't going to be bright if you continue down the path you're on. The reunion might help you out a bit. You know, rediscover your roots or whatever."

Troy groaned and slumped over, elbows resting on his knees, his bottle of beer held loosely in his right hand. Gray watched him carefully, waiting for his answer. Finally he swung his head back up and took a large gulp from his bottle.

"Fine," he said with something that rested between a sigh and a groan. "I'll go. I'll see... my parents and _all_ my old 'friends' again," he spat, wiggling his fingers to make quotation marks. Cracking his neck, he stood again and gestured for Gray to do the same. "Go. I need to go eat and... I don't know, watch TV until I pass out."

"Thank you," Gray said to Troy as they walked to the door.

"Don't mention it. Seriously."

Gray laughed and as Troy opened the door to let him out, he turned around to face the younger man.

"Hey, why don't you want to see your friends?" he asked, still smiling with a mixture of the remaining laughter and satisfaction that he had gotten his way. "Do they all hate you or something?"

"No, that's not it," Troy sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "They _love_ me."

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**So, what did you guys think? Please leave a review because I really love feedback of any kind and … yeah. Please send me a review! They help me update faster. :D**

**-Old Fiat Southern Italy**


	2. Resistance Is Futile

**Reunion**

Old Fiat

Oh my God! Thanks for all the feedback guys. :D I'm glad to hear that you like it. Thank you all so much. Seriously. I don't know if I would ever update this if I didn't get any reviews.

In case you're wondering, this story does bounce around in time quite a bit. Troy's part in the last chapter was actually meant to be several days before or after Gabriella's, but don't worry if you're confused—they all even out eventually and, at this point in the story, it doesn't really matter.

Anyway, on to the chapter!

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**Chapter Two: Resistance Is Futile**

"_And when you close your eyes, all you'll see is my face staring back at you..._"

=---=

_Rob pulled Sara behind the dumpster and together they pressed themselves into the corner behind the trash bin and the crumbling brick wall. They were breathing hard, struggling to catch their breath._

_"Do you think—" Sara began, but Rob cut her off with a finger to his lips and the slightest shake of his head, his blue eyes strangely bright in the darkness of the poorly lit alley way._

_They stayed that way for a few minutes, listening intently for their pursuers, crouching as low as they could against the wall._

_Slowly and carefully, Rob raised his head above the top of the dumpster. There was no one there. He gestured to Sara and she stood, nervously tucking a few strands of tangled, dark hair behind her ear. Rob jerked his head towards the other end of the alley and held a finger to his lips, his sandy brown hair falling over his forehead. He kept a hand closed around her wrist. Together, they took a step away from the dumpster, towards the opening at the other end of the alley._

_A spray of bullets flew down on them. Sara screamed, bringing up her left arm up to cover her head._

_"Run!" Rob shouted, pulling on her right hand and they took off down the dirty Baltimore streets, their feet pounding against the blackened sidewalks as bullets rained from the helicopter above them. A shot cut through Sara's black wool coat, creating a gash on her right arm. Another sliced across the side of Rob's head and blood trickled down over his ear and his face, partially blinding him. The people around them were screaming, jumping into shops and houses to try and avoid the rapid fire. Rob tugged Sara through the panicking crowds._

_Suddenly, a bullet sunk through the leather sleeve covering Rob's right arm. He gasped, eyes widening from the pain, as another shot into his calf. He fell, pulling Sara down with him. She shook with terror as they rolled together under the ledge in front of a store, now sheltered._

_But men in black military uniforms, chests obviously padded with bullet-proof vests, were coming out from various doorways around them. Their faces were covered with black helmets. The rain of bullets stopped, but Sara watched, her arms still wrapped around the wounded young man._

_They were surrounded._

=-----=-----=

Troy watched his agent's Porsche disappear through the large, black gates before closing the door again. Only raising his feet the minimum distance from the ground needed to walk, he returned to the kitchen and grabbed a bag of chips, a few chocolate bars and another beer. He then went up the stairs against the wall that cut the first floor in half with his snacks, his sneakers thumping decidedly on each step. The sound was muffled when his feet hit the plush, cream carpet that covered the second floor hallway and turned to the left to his own room.

Blackness faced him.

This wasn't particularly surprising to Troy. His entire room was decorated in black and silver. The bed frame was stained a color that teetered between brown and black and the rest of the room was painted with a warmish shade of black. The carpet was the same color as were the closet doors with their small silver handles. A large, flat screen television was built into the wall across from the bed with other entertainment items, including another ostentatious stereo set-up. Light flowed on to the bed from the window on the right side of the room.

Troy set his 'food' on the small table jutting out of the wall from the wall beside the bed as he kicked off his sneakers. He couldn't remember where he left his suitcase, but as soon as the thought appeared, it was gone. He realized, once he had closed the Venetian blinds that hung over the window, that he couldn't remember where the light switch was. It didn't matter.

Once he had shed most of his clothes excluding a formerly white t-shirt and old, faded jeans, which he switched with the ones he had worn on the plane, he flopped down on the brown-black duvet, leaning back into the soft pillows, and turned on the television.

The soothing sounds of shouting drunks from _Maury_ washed over him and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch. It was garbage television and it was the perfect companion for his pile of booze and junk food. He knew he shouldn't have lied to Gray about going to McDonald's, but he hadn't been in the mood for another lecture from his agent.

Taking a bite of a chocolate bar and washing it down with some more beer, he relaxed into the pile of black and white pillows. He couldn't wait for the upcoming speech he would surely receive from his maid, Maria. She had his best interests at heart, but he always laughed through her long talks about health and proper food.

He stayed in bed with his chips and beer for several hours before, at midnight, his eyes drifted shut and he fell asleep...

_…And dreamed of _her.

=-----=-----=

The sounds of laughter rose over the rest of the noise filling the small, cozy restaurant. Gabriella wiped away a tear and tried her best to catch her breath. Ryan, his cheeks flushed from laughing, wrapped his arm around Kelsi, a smile still stretched across his face. His wife leaned her head against his shoulder, chuckling, and stared up at his face.

"You," she said, poking his chin with a finger, "Are totally insane."

He grinned and moved her face slightly so he could bend down to kiss her.

"Oh my God..." Gabriella shook her head, giggling. "If you two keep doing these annoying public displays of affection, I'm going to either scream or just kill you both."

"Really?" Ryan said, one eyebrow raised. "I thought the threat was that you were going to pour Coca Cola on all of my clothes and Kelsi's piano."

"Well, that obviously didn't work!" said Gabriella, laughing.

Kelsi rolled her eyes as Ryan tried to drink and laugh at the same time. Shyly straightening her glasses, she gave a small smile. Ryan, who was notorious for missing things, hadn't noticed it, but there seemed to be something a little different about Gabriella that evening. Kelsi herself couldn't work out what it was, but she could see something strange about the way Gabriella laughed, the way she joked, even the way she smiled. She seemed unsteady and somewhat too casual, but Kelsi didn't know why.

"Kelsi," said Ryan, snapping his young wife out of her thoughts.

"Huh?" She sat up, giving her head a little shake. "What is it?"

He smiled at her, the grin reaching his grayish-blue eyes and making them shine. "Weren't you going to tell Gabriella about the call you got?"

"What?" Kelsi blinked a few times, searching her brain for the memory. "Oh! Oh yeah! Gabriella—you will not believe who called me as we were leaving the house."

"Who was it?" asked Gabriella, grinning.

"You remember James McKeen, right?" she asked eagerly. "The guy that was trying to organize a film version of _Shine the Light_?"

Gabriella bit her lip for a moment before a flash of recognition passed across her face. "He called you? But I thought the project was called off."

"Well, that's the thing!" said Kelsi, almost forgetting her previous concerns over her friend in her excitement. "They're going to restart the project!"

"Why wasn't I called?" asked Gabriella, smiling in a somewhat bemused fashion.

"We had signed all the paperwork before, remember?" explained Ryan, his usual calm tone tinged with the same hint of excitement that was so apparent in Kelsi's voice. "So they just have to get things organized again. I think casting starts soon."

"That's so cool," said Gabriella. She beamed at the couple. "That's awesome! Congratulations, Kels!" She watched as Kelsi laughed a little embarrassedly and Ryan raised his glass in a mock toast.

"To Mrs. Nielsen-Evans!" he said jokingly before giving her a light kiss on the cheek. Her cheeks flushed as she gave a little giggle.

Gabriella watched them carefully, making sure to not let her smile drop or her emotions to show through her eyes. She was excited for her friends. No, she was _ecstatic_, but as she watched Ryan and Kelsi tenderly kiss and laugh at the same time, she felt a tug somewhere near her stomach. She was happy for them, but she wished...

She didn't know what she wished.

They passed the rest of the meal happily talking about who they would cast for different roles. Kelsi was going to ask the casting director if Ryan could play the role he had filled in the original production—not the lead, but the supporting character, a surprising choice for a Broadway star like him, of the main character's best friend—but Ryan thought that there were other actors better suited for the part. Gabriella made one or two suggestions in jest, saying that she thought that the ghost of Lawrence Olivier should play the main character's father. When she returned to her apartment, she was still smiling. The empty living room faced her, simultaneously inviting and forbidding.

Pushing these thoughts to the back of her mind, she moved around the apartment, turning on the coffee maker so she could have a steaming mug of coffee when she finished her shower. She pulled her hair out of it's ponytail, letting the dark curls fall gracefully around her shoulders as she tugged off her black suit coat and walked to her bedroom. When she entered the bathroom a few minutes later, she turned up the radio as loud as she could bear before getting into the shower.

As the hot water pounded against her back, Gabriella could feel her thoughts untangling. Kelsi had been right, there was almost no chance that Troy would be at the reunion. She had to stop worrying. James McKeen was bringing up the _Shine the Light_ project again, which was a good thing. He would find other good producers and production companies to get involved and they in turn would find a good director and good choreographers. She had to stop over-thinking things. Her life was perfect. Nothing could ever change that. If anything did, she would get it under control. She could do it herself. She didn't need anyone else.

She was fine.

=-----=-----=

"What the hell are you talking about?" Chad Danforth shouted into his cellphone. He pressed the phone closer to his ear while trying to stay upright on the metro. A few of his other passengers watched with mild interest as he argued. "You can't do that!"

"_Why can't I?_" His boss's cold, feminine voice seemed to slither through the receiver, sending chills down his spine. "_You're good, Danforth, but I can't afford to keep you on._"

"But—" Chad couldn't find the right words. "I don't have any fall back after this! This job was my fall back!"

"_You can surely find another job,_" said his boss and he could picture her now, staring out her enormous office window at Washington D.C, her perfectly tailored, navy blue suit making her appear thinner than she already was. He could see her auburn hair pulled neatly up in a butterfly clip, her hazel eyes cold. "_I'll recommend you to any future potential employers and I can give you a few places where you might want to look for work, as long as you weren't too attached to living in Washington..._"

"I live in Baltimore," Chad spat, trying to make it clear that he did not possess the same amount of money that she did.

"_Baltimore is a nice city,_" she said with little emotion.

"Yeah?" he shouted, attracting more stares. "So why didn't you tell me that I was fired while I was in _Baltimore_ instead of while I was just outside _Washington_?"

"_I attempted to contact you last night, Danforth, but all I got was your message machine._"

"Don't give me crap, Diana. I have to go to bed at _nine o'clock at night_ so I can wake up at four to catch all sorts of public transportation to get to work by six thirty! When did you call?"

"_Around eleven. I'm sorry, Danforth, but there is nothing I can do about it._"

Chad laughed sarcastically. "You could rehire me!"

"_No,_" she said, icily. "_I am very sorry. We've cleaned out your little office and we'll send you all the things that were in there that belong to you. I'll send a high recommendation to any of your future employers. Goodbye, Danforth._"

"Diana—!" Chad was cut off by a harsh, final _click_. He groaned and attempted to support his weight on the handle hanging down from the roof of the metro car.

This had been it for him. After getting in a car accident back when he played basketball for the University of Albuquerque, he had been told by the doctor that he required hip-replacement surgery and that he could no longer play professional sports. He had taken time in the hospital to think carefully. Basketball had been the only career he had ever considered, but he had to pull back for a while to decide where he would go from there. He had always had a certain understanding for language—he was already fluent in both English and Italian, due to his largely bi-lingual household, and had a talent for being able to learn foreign tongues with swiftness and ease.

And thus, he had become an interpreter. He worked in Washington D.C for various ambassadors and other government officials. It was not how he had dreamed his future, but he enjoyed it enough.

Or, rather, he _had_ enjoyed it enough—seeing as his boss, the incredibly icy and competent Diana Warren, had just fired him. He had no where to go from there. He had been part of a team of translators, who all worked for the same agency and who all were fairly well paid, but apparently the night before, a decision had been made and he was the weak link.

When the metro arrived in Washington, he got off and almost immediately boarded another car that went back up to Baltimore where he lived in a small apartment, by himself. He knew he would have to move, which was annoying. He had only really chosen the job in D.C was so that he could hope that one day he would see Taylor McKessie—who had sworn that she would become the President one day—again. Of course, now there was no hope of that. He had been waiting three years for her to finally come and work in Washington, but she was too busy... where-ever she was. He hadn't seen her since Ryan and Kelsi's wedding, but when he had seen her there, something had clicked. She was just as sarcastic and cutting as she had been when they were eighteen. He had missed her and something in him knew they shouldn't have broken up. He had been offered a job with Diana a year later and jumped on it, praying he would run into her again...

But he hadn't. And he hadn't done anything with his life other than start a career that he didn't especially like and not succeed in getting the girl who he _knew_ he was supposed to be with.

Chad made a decision as he sat there in the metro car—which was a lot less full than the one going from Baltimore to Washington.

"Life sucks," he muttered, lamely kicking the pole positioned in front of his chair.

He would never see her again. Even if she came to Washington, he wouldn't be there. He had lost his last chance to see her, or even speak to her again, seeing as he no longer had her phone number. It was over. He'd lost.

However, when he returned to his apartment, once he had exchanged his boring suit for a loose button-up shirt and jeans, he would find a letter that would prove all these things incorrect. He had a chance now—the tiniest, microscopic chance that he would see her again.

And that was good enough for him.

=-----=-----=

For two weeks straight, Gabriella had been trying to escape Troy Bolton.

It was as though the invitation to the reunion had triggered something. Suddenly, his face was everywhere—every tabloid next to the line at the supermarket, every talk show, and every DVD cover in the rental store. She was going insane. She had been able to ignore his rise to fame for ten whole years. What had changed? All she saw was him, his face, his still-crooked smile, his eyes...

Even as she flopped down on her couch—exhausted after a long day of sorting through contracts and aiding the preparations for the film-version of _Shine the Light—_and turned on the television, the first thing she came across was Troy's break-through film, _My Life Is Over_. Gabriella had never seen the film, but she had heard enough to know what it was about—some popular girl has a great life, great friends and great family and then some new boy, who had been played by Troy, moves to town and destroys everything. And, of course, they fall in love. She watched for a few moments as the main girl sat under a tree in the rain, crying, until Troy arrived, confessed his love and kissed her. Gabriella rolled her eyes and changed the channel, desperately searching for something that did not include Troy and though before it had been easy, now it seemed like every station had banded together to play every interview with Troy Bolton, old and new.

Finally, with something between a shout and a groan, she threw the remote at the television and stood, bringing her hands up to the back of her neck and pulling downwards while bending her head back. What was wrong with her? Was she going crazy? She hadn't felt this confused since... well, the last time she had seen Troy when he had stared her with those bright blue eyes, lips slightly parted as he breathed slowly; when he had walked out of her apartment in California, slamming the door behind him and leaving her alone.

As suddenly as it had flushed her whole system, all the tension left her body and she collapsed on the sofa. She buried her face in the cushions and sighed.

What was she going to do?

=-----=-----=

=-----=-----=

**So... that's chapter two. I hope this isn't moving too slowly. The reunion itself probably won't be for a another... while. I don't know how long. XD Anyway, I wonder who can now guess what the two things at the beginning of each chapter are (the italicized sentence and the little random story things). Kudos to anyone who can! There's a hint within this chapter for one of them...**

**Please review! I really want feedback so I can know what people think of this story. I'd really appreciate it and sorry this chapter took so long!**

**Yours,**

**OFsI**


	3. Hope, Pray, Fall and Crash

**Reunion**

Old Fiat

So! Here is chapter three. Thank you _TeagansMom_, _Musique-du-Soleil_, _.Lov3_ and _HSM-Troyella-1990_ for your nice reviews. Thanks a ton, guys! I hope this chapter didn't take too long. Enjoy!

=-----=-----=

=-----=-----=

**Chapter Three: Hope, Pray, Fall and Crash**

"_And when you stop to think of me, all you'll remember is how hurt I was and how much I loved you and how you lost me; how you gave me up..._"

=---=

_**May 2, 1961—somewhere in the Pacific Ocean.**_

_No one had seen the forest for centuries. _

_It had been wiped off every map, forgotten by all mankind. The trees had taken over the land, their roots wrapping around each other and pushing up the hard earth which lay over them. Brambles had grown past their usual boundaries and twisted around saplings and large ferns. Moss covered the ground and crept up the vast tree trunks. Only a few spots of lights reached the forest floor, creating small pools of gold on the leaves of a few plants. The air itself beneath the canopy of the trees was sticky and humid, as thick as soup._

_But there was no sound._

_Nothing lived in the forest—or so it seemed. Not a single ant crawled up the base of an oak. No bears lumbered past. The only noise was the rustle of leaves as a breeze passed through them. The plants and the occasional fungi enjoyed the silence. They liked it that way._

_Not too far off from the woods, a plane flew. There were only two people inside, aside from the pilot. They were newly weds—a young husband and wife—flying to one of the Hawaiian islands for their honeymoon._

_"William," Anna said to her new husband, a smile on her small, pink lips. "Are you sure your grandmother will be happy to see us?"_

_"She'll love you, darling," said William, grinning happily at her. His slick, brown hair had once been carefully styled, but a loose curl or two had long since escaped from the pomade. Letting out a slight sigh, Anna ran her hand over the linen sleeve of his suit coat. _

_"I'm just a little worried," she said, dark eyebrows knitting. Her puffy, blond hair caught the sunlight and shone like gold. "Maybe we should've waited a little longer to get married."_

_"Anna—" he moved forward in his seat so he was facing her and ran his hand along her cheek "—You have nothing to worry about. We've known each other a month, alright? The most important thing is that we know that we love each other."_

_She toyed with his sleeve, pulling it up higher and running her hand along the lightly tanned skin beneath. "William, I—" She stopped because she had just seen something on his arm—a tattoo; a short series of numbers that went up his forearm. They had faded, but only a little, to a semi-opaque navy blue. She looked back up into his blue eyes, which reflected some of the light from outside the plane. She shook violently, unsure of what to do. "What is this?"_

_As the words left her mouth, his eyes, which had seemed so clear and open before, suddenly became cloudy, cold. The smile froze on his lips and the color seemed to drain from his face._

_He started to open his mouth to speak, but at that moment the pilot ran to the passengers section of the plane. _

_"We're out of gas!" he shouted. The panic in his voice was almost palpable. Fear flashed desperately behind his eyes. "We're going down!"_

_And at those words, the plane crashed into the forest._

=-----=-----=

Kelsi held up a turquoise dress made out of taffeta. It had thin chocolate brown pinstripes on it. She placed it near her face and turned towards the mirror, then she turned back towards Ryan.

"So how's this one?" she asked, looking somewhat harried. Kelsi had never been particularly fond of shopping, though Ryan loved it, and was getting pretty tired of wandering through the department store, searching for a good dress to wear to the reunion.

Ryan cocked his head to one side, leaning back on his hands as he sat on one of the small, burgundy poofs that were littered throughout the store, and looked over the dress. "Yeah, I think that's good."

A look of relief passed over Kelsi's face. "Really? Even with the little brown ribbon sash?"

"Are you kidding?" Ryan asked, grinning. "I love a good sash, especially on my gorgeous wife."

"Thank God," she said, flopping down beside him on the poof. "I was afraid I was going to get another 'it's okay' response..."

Ryan looked at her for a moment. Sometimes Kelsi could be really strange.

"I just called you gorgeous and all you care about is stopping shopping," he pointed out, one eyebrow raised, the grin still fixed on his face.

"Come on," said Kelsi, leaning her head against his shoulder, a small smile on her lips. "I don't have to gush for five minutes after you compliment me, do I?"

"I guess not," Ryan shrugged, "but in not-actual revenge, go try on that dress." Kelsi groaned, still laughing, and walked over to the dressing rooms.

Gabriella was looking at some dresses on a nearby rack, half-listening to Ryan and Kelsi's conversation. She had decided the night before exactly what she needed to do at the reunion. Obviously, Troy wouldn't be there, but she wanted to make an impression of her fellow alumni. She wanted to show that she was independent, intelligent and didn't need anyone like Troy Bolton to support her. She wanted a dress that made her seem strong and so far she had found nothing that brought about that effect. Of course, she wouldn't have had to worry about this if she could have gone along with her plan—wearing one of her nice, crisp suits—however, Kelsi had insisted she buy something new.

"It'll make you feel better," she had said, a little pleadingly. "And I hate shopping alone."

"You won't be alone," Gabriella had responded, confused. "Ryan'll be with you."

"Yeah, but, come on, Gabi! We haven't gone shopping together in ages!"

Eventually, Gabriella had given in and, as she searched the racks, she was starting to wonder if this was a fruitless task. Everything seemed to be for women who were much younger or much older than she was and the dresses for women her age were for some one more like Kelsi or Sharpay or anyone but her.

She turned around as Kelsi walked out of the dressing room in her cocktail dress. It was almost a perfect fit and Ryan had friends who could fix any problems. The color cleared Kelsi's skin and emphasized the best things about her figure. It also didn't make her look particularly short, which, in Gabriella's experience as a woman who could be called 'petite', was the sign of a great dress.

"Flawless!" Ryan said loudly, clapping.

"It is?" asked Kelsi, pleased that she had finally found something.

Ryan nodded. "It's perfect. Now, I'm going to go help Gabriella while you change back."

As he walked over to her, Gabriella spun back towards the rack and pretended to continue her search in a calm, confident manner.

"Any luck?" Ryan asked, fingering a green satin, empire-style dress.

"Nope," sighed Gabriella without looking up. She looked briefly at a red minidress, then pulled it off the rack and showed it to Ryan. "Who would wear this?"

Ryan raised one eyebrow. "Is that a shirt?" Gabriella shook her head. "I would assume women of ill-repute or maybe the small, pants-lacking section of the fashion demographic."

Gabriella laughed and, as she moved to another rack, Ryan went to the neighboring one.

"What color dress do you want to wear?" he asked, pulling out a cotton, lavender-colored dress that fit neatly at the waist and flared out into a small A-line skirt.

"I don't know..." said Gabriella as she looked at a yellow and white, striped linen halter-top gown. "I want to look really professional."

"It's not a job interview, you know." Ryan said, laughing a little under his breath.

She rolled her eyes. "I know," she said, looking up briefly from the selection of clothes. "I just... I don't really feel comfortable dressing casually until summer or, in the longer-term, Christmastime and even then it's kind of annoying. I'd rather look put together, you know?"

Ryan nodded vaguely as he flipped through the different dresses.

"Oh my God, Gabriella," came a voice from behind them and both she and Ryan turned around to see Kelsi standing there, her dress hanging over her right arm. "I just found you the most _perfect_ dress." Without another word, she turned around and started walking, Ryan and Gabriella following behind.

She led them to the section of the store where the new season was on display and there it hung in the center.

It was a simple cocktail dress, its design probably taken from another dress from the 1950s. The top was close cut, sleeveless and made out of a thin, black, wool-silk blend. It was fitted perfectly until the waist, where the skirt became a simple A-line covered with layers of black chiffon. It was beautiful. It was stylish. It was professional. It was _perfect_.

"Isn't it great?" asked Kelsi as Gabriella stepped forward, running her fingers over the smooth material. The chiffon hanging over the skirt felt as light as air. "Imagine that with your hair kind of loosely pulled up and a little string of pearls around your neck and that one watch I got you for your birthday last year."

Ryan snatched the dress off the hook and handed it to Gabriella. "Go try it on."

As the brunette walked away towards the dressing rooms, Kelsi gave a happy sigh. "Thank God. Once she's done, then we can go home."

Ryan looked down at her, laughing. "What are you talking about? We still have shoes and other accessories to buy!"

=-----=-----=

Taylor McKessie was busy packing when her mother called. Taylor knew she still had four days before the reunion itself took place, but she wasn't concerned with that. She needed to set aside the clothes she wanted to take before. It had been hard to arrange for a few days off—as the personal assistant to the governor of Washington, she had a lot of work to do all the time—and she wasn't going to spoil this vacation time by not having all the right clothes.

She picked up her cellphone, flipped it open and glanced at the caller ID. Cradling it on her shoulder, she carefully folded a cream button up shirt. "Hey mom."

"_Taylor—_" Mrs. McKessie's voice was a little strained and her words were spoken in a strange, rushed tone, which didn't surprise Taylor at all. Her mother had always been a very uptight kind of person and organizing any sort of travel plans was something that really threw her over the edge. This was why Taylor had chosen to rent a car in Albuquerque and stay in a hotel, rather than stay with her parents. "_Do you know what time you'll be coming over to our house so that I can make sure that dinner is ready by then?_"

"Mom, calm down," Taylor said, placing the shirt in her suit case and smoothing any minute wrinkles in the caramel pin-striped fabric. "My flight should come in at five PM, but I'm going to stop by the hotel to drop off my stuff first. I'll be at the house by six, okay?"

Mrs. McKessie sighed heavily. "_Thank you, darling._"

"It's nothing, mom. Don't worry." Taylor moved over to the wardrobe which stood against the wall opposite from the bed. She pulled a pair of black, patent leather pumps out of the small shelf at the bottom and placed them on her bed. "I'll be fine, alright?"

"_I know, Taylor,_" her mother took another deep breath, trying to calm herself. "_Are you sure that you want to stay at a hotel? Your father and I would be happy to have you here._"

"Mom, I really don't want to cause any extra trouble for you and dad."

"_But it wouldn't be any trouble, sweetheart,_" Mrs. McKessie insisted. "_We would love for you to stay here!_"

Taylor bit her lip and gave a little sigh. Her mother said that it wouldn't be any trouble, but Taylor knew better than that. Having guests, even her own daughter, always put Mrs. McKessie in a nervous state and Taylor wanted to keep her mother as relaxed as possible.

"Jessica's coming over with Jacob in two weeks, right?" asked Taylor, referring to her sister and brother-in-law. "Mom, you'll have a lot to deal with then. I don't want to make you have any more work. It's totally fine." The line crackled as Mrs. McKessie sighed again.

"_I guess, dear. I miss you._"

"I miss you, too, mom," said Taylor, placing her pumps and a pair of creamy white, peep-toe heels into the black suitcase. "See you soon!"

"_Bye bye, darling._" There was a wistful tone in her mother's voice as she spoke. "_See you._" Then there was a slight _click_, and the line went dead.

Taylor closed her phone and placed it back on the night stand. Her suitcase was nearly full and she looked around the room for anything else she needed. The only things hanging from the navy blue walls were some cheap watercolor landscapes that, as far as Taylor could tell, had come with the apartment and the curtains that, at that moment, were swept back to allow some natural light into the room. Beside the wardrobe sat a bookshelf which was bending in such a way that suggested imminent collapse and Taylor walked over to it now, taking a medium sized book from one of the shelves and grabbing her cellphone charger from the top. She placed both items in her carry-on bag along with her agenda, her address book and her reading glasses.

As she zipped up her suitcase, she thought back to the invitation—now tucked safely in her agenda so she wouldn't forget the time of the reunion and which building it was in. It would be fun to see everyone again. Troy wouldn't be there, of course, but Gabriella might and she couldn't wait to see her again. She hoped Ryan and Kelsi would be there and she wasn't sure if Sharpay would come, but if she did Taylor couldn't wait to see if her fashion sense had changed at all since the last time they had seen each other.

Of course, there was only one person who Taylor really, truly, deeply and totally _prayed_ would be there—Chad Danforth.

It was so stupid, Taylor could hardly believe it herself. She and Chad had broken up after high school, but when they met again at Ryan and Kelsi's wedding, she had felt the same silly tightness in her stomach and swelling in her heart. She still loved him, or at least, still liked him. He was a goof, but she enjoyed giving him joking reprimands and lightly whacking his shoulders and feeling the sparks jump off his body and dive into her fingertips. It really was stupid. She wanted to see him desperately and every time she thought of this she felt like slapping herself. There was a large chance that Chad wouldn't be there and even if he was, who was to say that he didn't have a new girlfriend? Who was to say that he hadn't totally forgotten about her? After all, when they had met at Ryan and Kelsi's wedding, she had given him the phone number for the land line of the apartment where she lived when she used to work in Montana, but, obviously, she had moved since then.

But part of her was certain that he couldn't have possibly forgotten her. She was sure that he too had felt the sparks jumping between him. This was the part that had noted the way he always stopped talking to listen whenever she spoke, the part that had spotted the way he tensed whenever she touched him. She was sure he felt the same way she did—that even if she wasn't always thinking about him, Chad was always there in the back of her mind.

Always.

She placed the half-zipped suitcase by the window and put the carry-on bag beside it—the part of her that could still remember every line of Chad's face, every curl in his hair, the exact color of his eyes, still feverishly praying.

=-----=-----=

Gray had known Troy long enough to be able to tell when something was up and at that moment, something was up.

Sure, Troy was acting normal—lightly flirting with Claire, Gray's wife; telling silly anecdotes about things that had happened on the set of his most recent film—but Gray could tell that something was wrong. Maybe it was the way he jiggled his leg nervously beneath the table, as though he had had twelve cups of coffee before coming there (though if this really was true, Gray would not be surprised). Or maybe it was that his laughter was a little too high-pitched. Or maybe it was the way his smile would slide from time to time and the way his eyes slipped in and out of focus.

Whatever it was, something was going on and it was Gray's duty as Troy's manager to find out what it was.

"I'll go get some coffees," said Claire, rising gracefully from the table and moving into the kitchen of the large, traditional California-style house. Troy watched her skirts swish smoothly as she left and then turned back to Gray.

"You know what you two remind me of?" he asked, drinking a little of the whiskey sour that Claire had mixed for him.

"What?" asked Gray, one eyebrow raised behind his thin spectacles.

"You guys are like _The Dick Van Dyke Show_. Or, at a stretch, _I Love Lucy_."

Gray snorted, laughing a little into his own whiskey sour. "Come on... You're just jealous." They had had this conversation countless times before, ever since Gray had gotten married eight years ago to his old high school sweetheart. However, that evening the exchange seemed different—like a song you've heard dozens of times and then someone starts changing the sound levels.

Troy laughed too. "As if." It was the same response he always gave, but that day his voice was different. It shook a little and the words themselves took a bit longer than usually, as though his mind was trapped in fog.

"Troy," Gray said carefully, deciding to take the plunge. "Are you okay?"

He knew the answer he would get. He had been getting the same answer since the incident almost four years before. Troy had been falling down something for a long time. Gray didn't know if it was some form of depression or maybe all the drinking Troy had been doing without eating very much at all had finally caught up with him. It didn't really matter. All that mattered was that Gray knew that it wasn't going to get better. Troy hardly ever slept anymore. He was losing the little of health that remained after the incident. Gray had worked the media very well, creating an entire cover-up for his client, but Troy wasn't getting better. If anything, he was getting worse, but as an actor, he lied his way through it, acting his way through any personal difficulty.

And it was because of this that Gray knew the response that was coming. It was the response that had fueled his wish to get Troy home. It was the response that was willing to grab the last chance to pull Troy out of the hole he had dug for himself.

"Yeah," Troy said, the same slightly surprised expression he always wore when asked the question. "Why?"

Knowing the response that would come did not stop Gray's heart from falling the moment he heard it. If anything, it made it worse. He knew Troy trusted him more than anyone, however, Gray knew that he was still exceedingly secretive. He wanted Troy to get better from whatever was wrong.

"Oh nothing," he said, forcing a small smile. "You were just a little... dead behind the eyes for a minute there." Troy laughed and Gray noticed that he was careful to make sure his smile didn't stop.

"Well, I haven't slept in three days straight!" Troy said, still chuckling. Gray felt his own smile fall as Claire reentered the room.

"Here you go," she said, placing a small mug before Troy. He grinned up at her and gave her a little wink.

"You know, if Gray hadn't gotten to you first, I would've married you in a heartbeat."

She giggled and shook her head. "As if you'd ever get married to anyone, Troy."

"You got me there," Troy said, pretending to gaze thoughtfully into his cup of coffee. "My only true loves are Jerry Springer, beer and nacho chips."

The two laughed and Gray chuckled lightly, but he felt something clench in his stomach. As watched Troy drink his steaming coffee, stopping in between each gulp to cool his mouth with a sip of his whiskey sour, he felt a small rush of fear. He hoped that seeing his hometown would help Troy. He hoped that it would heal the part of Troy that had been repeatedly cut open.

He truly prayed that he could help him before it became too late.

=-----=-----=

=-----=-----=

**So! That's chapter three. Whoo-hoo! Writing this story is really fun. I hope you guys like it so far. I hope it's not too confusing. I try to make things simultaneously clear and clouded so if you don't get something, it may or may not be part of the plot. Lol.**

**I really, truly **_**beg**_** you to review. I really love getting feedback and I want to know what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong and if you have any suggestions for the plot (I have a really loose outline right now and I'm kind of half making things up as I go along. Lol.) just tell me them. I love hearing predictions and favorite parts. I'd like to know if anyone has figured out what the two short sections (both in italics) at the beginning of each chapter are. Or you can just ramble. Anything is fine. Just please, **_**please**_** review.**

**Yours**

**OFsI**


	4. Nervous Dreams

**Reunion**

Old Fiat

=-----=-----=

=-----=-----=

**Chapter Four: Nervous Dreams**

"_You'll spend your whole life waiting for me to come back..._"

=---=

_He jerked awake with a start. The dreams had awoken him again—dreams of cold, dark houses and damp, black spaces. He pushed off the blankets and got out of bed, running his fingers through his hair. _

_ He kept dreaming about it, like the memories he held back throughout the day burst their bonds at night. It was torture. This, surely, was hell..._

=-----=-----=

Sharpay felt a small twinge of nervousness as she looked around the airport, but quickly squashed the feeling. Sharpay Evans did not get nervous. Sharpay Evans was not a nervous person.

Nevertheless, she tightened her grip on the handle of her roll-along suitcase and pulled her purse higher up on her shoulder. He had sworn he would meet her here, but so far he hadn't shown. She had been waiting for thirty minutes, watching, a bit jealously, as other passengers from the same flight as her met loved ones or called up taxis to take them to their separate destinations. Maybe she should have called a taxi and gone directly home. But maybe his flight had been delayed. She ran her thumb over the small platinum band on her left hand, scanning the crowd again for him.

"Sharpay!"

She spun around and felt a rush of relief as she saw her fiancé, Zeke, stride over to her. His mouth was stretched into a smile as he dragged his large, black suitcase behind him. She found that she couldn't help but admire the way that his white and blue pinstriped button-up shirt hung from his well-muscled torso. His slightly creased black trousers made his legs appear longer than usual. Sharpay found herself smiling. She was so glad she had given him that make-over in celebration of his getting accepted into Le Cordon Bleu College of Culinary Arts in Miramar, Florida. Since then, he had understood that the only way to dress if he wanted to succeed was to have Sharpay shop for him.

"Where were you?" she asked, walking towards him. He stopped in front of her and gave her a brief kiss.

"My flight was delayed," he said, still beaming.

Sharpay raised one eyebrow. "For two hours?"

His grin only grew wider. "I can't help it if the Miami airport can't get the planes off the ground as soon as I've sat down."

She smiled as he led her towards where the taxis waited for harried travelers. "I still can't believe you opened a bakery in Miami. What ever happened to that little New York coffee shop idea you had going for a while?"

"It's been done too many times," he said, shrugging as he pulled open the door for her. "And besides, New York is just too cold for me." He grinned again and winked as he moved around behind to put their suitcases in the trunk. "Unless you're there with me."

Sharpay shook her head as he sat down beside her on the gray polyester-covered chairs. "Honestly, Zeke, if my dad heard you talking the way you just did, he'd take his golf club to your head." This statement was greeted by a laugh from Zeke, who pulled her into an embrace and pressed his lips against her cheeks. She giggled happily, all the earlier strain of traveling from Montreal to Albuquerque seeming to flow out of her.

The taxi driver turned around, annoyance creasing his heavily tanned face.

"Hey, lovebirds," he said sharply, causing Zeke and Sharpay to freeze and look at him. "Where do you want me to take you?"

"The Evans estate," she answered simply in a haughty tone of voice, smiling as she said it. "And quickly, please. It's been a long time since Daddy has seen me and I'm sure he wouldn't want me to be late."

The driver didn't need to be asked twice.

=-----=-----=

Gabriella leaned heavily against the information desk, watching the receptionist as he typed franticly on his computer. Sighing, she glanced at the clock behind him. Ten minutes past midnight. In eighteen hours and twenty minutes Gabriella would be entering her old high school. Something clenched in her stomach and she bit her lip to calm herself.

"Have you found my reservation yet?" she asked the young receptionist. He looked up at her through his small, square glasses and she realized the his eyes were an incredibly pale shade of green—a total contrast to his thick, wavy black hair and tan skin.

"Oh, yes," he said, glancing at the computer screen. "There's just been a bit of a mix up. Someone put another guest in your room. Do you mind if I put you in an en suite room with another guest? You can lock the door between the two rooms."

"As long as there are two separate bathrooms, I'm fine." She gave him a small smile and was surprised when his cheeks flushed. He nervously turned back to the computer.

"Um... here you go. Room number two hundred and fifty-eight." He swiveled in the black computer chair and took a small card out of the shelf the sat behind him. He handed it to her and smiled as she took it from his hand, his cheeks turning pink once more. "I hope you enjoy your stay." He offered her a weak smile. "Do you want help with your bags?"

She paused for a moment, then smiled again. "That would be wonderful."

He came out from the counter and she discovered to her surprise that he was only an inch or two taller than she was. His hands shook slightly as he lifted her suitcase and the long, see-through, zip-up bag from the dry-cleaners that held her dress, which he slung over his arm.

"You going to that high school reunion?" he asked and she turned towards him, a little shocked.

"How did you know?" she asked and she saw the corners of his mouth twitch.

"A lot of the other guests having been checking in lately," he explained as he led her over to the elevator and pressed the button. "And you know how sometimes when people check in to hotels they start telling you what their plans are and stuff. Also, why else would you be walking around with a nice party dress like this if you were just going to hang around in a hotel for a few days?"

She laughed. "That is a good question..."

They stepped into the elevator together and he pressed the button that took them up to the second floor. Gabriella noticed his name tag which read, 'Georgie'.

"How long have you been working here?" she asked, straightening the strap of her hand bag which hung off her shoulder.

"Oh, just since September," he said, giving a nervous half-smile. "I've been working my way through college. I want to be a lawyer, so..." He trailed off.

"You know, I'm actually a lawyer," she said as the elevator doors slid open. "Let me take this." She tried to take her suitcase, but he pulled it from her hand with a little smile.

"What kind of work do you do as a lawyer?" he asked her, a glint of something that she couldn't quite place in his pale green eyes.

"Oh, I, um..." She followed him down the corridor, her footsteps making no sound on the cream colored carpet. "I'm an attorney for two friends of mine. They work on Broadway in New York."

They stopped in front of a mauve-painted door with the stenciled, black numbers 258 on it.

"Here you go," said Georgie. He set down her suitcase by the door and paused for a moment, as though unsure of what to do. "If you ever need anything during your stay, just... just ask for me."

"Thank you," she said, smiling at him as she swiped the card through the slot. A small green light flashed and she turned the knob. "You've been a great help."

"It's nothing," he said, handing her the dry cleaning bag. "See you later." With that, he jogged back over to the elevator.

Gabriella entered her room, dragging her suitcase behind her. She couldn't believe Ryan had chosen such a late flight for the three of them. Of course, it hadn't been booked that late, but take off had been delayed for three hours due to different weather conditions. She flopped down on the bed, pleased to finally relax.

She stared up at the ceiling fan for a few minutes before sitting up and reaching for the remote which sat on the bedside table. She aimed it at the flat screen and as she was about to switch it on the door which connected rooms two hundred and fifty eight and two hundred and sixty burst open.

Gabriella jumped up and was surprised to see Taylor McKessie standing there, looking shocked and sheepish.

"Oh my God!" she said, her face splitting into a grin. "Hi Gabi!"

"Taylor, what are you doing here?" asked Gabriella, though she felt that she already knew the answer.

"Here as in your hotel room or Albuquerque?"

Gabriella laughed. "Albuquerque and then my room."

"I decided to go to the East High reunion," explained Taylor, leaning against the doorway, her dark curly hair catching the light from the room behind her. "As for being in your room, I thought it was the bathroom. There isn't one in my room, for some reason."

"Well, these are en suite rooms," said Gabriella with a small shrug. She smiled happily at Taylor. "Oh my God! It's so good to see you!"

The two friends embraced and stayed up until two thirty, lolling about on the queen-sized bed in Gabriella's room and filling each other in on any details of their lives that the other had missed. Eventually, Taylor left to take a shower—using Gabriella's bathroom—and Gabriella changed into her pajamas. She flopped back down on her bed and stared once more at the motionless ceiling fan.

She no longer regretted choosing to go with Ryan and Kelsi. The twinges of nervousness she had felt before were now gone. Seeing Taylor again had awoken something in her and though she wasn't quite sure what it was, she felt that, no matter what happened the next day at the reunion, she had control over her life. She had done too much just to lose it now. She could do this. The next day, she would have lunch at the Evans' estate, where Ryan and Kelsi were staying, and then go back to the hotel to get ready for the reunion itself. It was all under control. She could do this.

Eventually, Taylor left the bathroom and, after saying goodnight, she went to her own bedroom, leaving the door open between the two rooms. Gabriella stayed up reading for a little while, but finally, at fifteen minutes before three o'clock in the morning, she drifted off to sleep.

She was sure she must have dreamed what happened next.

She awoke to the sounds of a commotion in the hallway. Blearily, she pulled herself out of bed, stumbled over to the door and pulled it open.

A stampede of paparazzi ran past her. The hallway was a sea of flashbulbs and crowded bodies. The air was ripped with shouted questions and the pounding of feet. People slipped in and out of focus as she blinked at the random flashes of light. She leaned heavily against the door frame and shuffled out into the hallway behind the group of reporters, watching as they crammed together into one giant pack which pushed against the burgundy and cream-striped walls.

A voice rose above the rest—a young, scared voice, which seemed to break slightly as it shouted.

"_Get away from me! All of you! Get away!_"

Gabriella pushed through the crowd. She didn't know why, but she had to get to that voice. That person in the center of the crowd needed her help. She shouldered her way past the photographers, half blind from the flashbulbs. She pushed aside a young, half-Asian woman to reach the center.

And there he stood. Sunglasses sat over his eyes but she could still tell who he was, though her tired mind didn't register the information for a few minutes. His face was flushed as he tried to simultaneously shield his eyes and push past the pack of paparazzi.

She wrapped her arms around him, grabbing the key card from his hands as she did so. Room 297. She shoved her way past a few more reporters until she reached the said door. As she slammed the card into the slot, the door unlocked and she pulled it back out, placed it in his still slightly-large hands and pushed him into the room.

His sunglasses had fallen off and now lay crushed into the hall carpeting and, right before she closed the door again, she saw a flash of recognition and gratitude in his bright blue eyes.

The crowd dispersed after the door shut. A few reporters shouted an obscenity or two in her direction, but she wasn't really listening. She wandered back to her room, pulled closed the door and fell into bed.

She was asleep instantly.

And in the morning, she would assume that she had simply had another stupid dream about her old high school sweetheart, Troy Bolton.

After all, it had to have been a dream—hadn't it?

=-----=-----=

Kelsi woke with a start and looked anxiously around the room. It took her a long while to work out where she was. She didn't recognize the light green walls, the cream carpeting or the king-size bed in which she now lay and it wasn't until she spotted the framed photograph of Ryan and Sharpay from when they were eleven years old that she figured it out. She was in Ryan's room at the Evans' estate in Albuquerque, but she had no idea how she had gotten there.

Ryan lay beside her, his white-blond hair tousled from being rubbed into his pillow. She shook his shoulder nervously.

"Ryan!" she whispered as he gave a sleepy groan, his eyes flickering open.

"What is it?" he asked, his voice a little slurred from sleep.

"When did we get to your house?" She felt a small surge of annoyance as he gave a sleepy chuckle.

"Last night. You fell asleep in the car so I carried you in." He held up a hand to stop her from interrupting him. "Before you ask—Gabriella got to the hotel alright. Go back to sleep."

"Oh..." Kelsi glanced at the electric clock on the night stand and gave a small yelp. "Oh my God! Get out of bed!"

Ryan groaned and buried his face into his pillow. "Hell no."

"Ryan!" she said, sliding out of bed and running over to her suitcase. "It's eleven thirty in the morning! Get out of bed!"

He sat up, blinking hurriedly. "You serious?"

"Yes!" she called, grabbing a flowery blouse and a pair of black trousers. "Get up! I'm going to go take a shower."

He climbed out of bed and half-walked, half-stumbled over to his suitcase. "Congratulations! I'll be in there in a second!"

"Pervert!" Kelsi shouted from the bathroom. She could remember the first time she had visited Ryan and Sharpay's house and could still recall the rush of envy she had felt when she discovered that the twins each had their own en suite bathrooms. It wasn't really fair for a small family like theirs when Kelsi had had to share a single bathroom with her four older brothers and her father. Her mother had passed away when she was very young and Mrs. Evans had happily taken on the role of mother for Kelsi even before she and Ryan had begun going out. She could remember when she had first visited that, after Ryan had introduced her to his mother, Mrs. Evans had winked at Kelsi and said, "So you're the one Ryan always talks about..."

Kelsi could remember a lot of things.

She could remember the first time Ryan kissed her after prom on the doorstep and her older brother, Joshua, had come out of the front door and not-so subtly threatened him. She could remember when he had helped her move into her dormitory in New York. She could remember when he had proposed to her after the opening show of _Shine the Light!_.

Kelsi closed her eyes as she turned on the shower, basking in the light that bounced around the white tile bathroom.

Ryan came in a few moments later and she was happily pulled out of her memories.

=-----=-----=

Gabriella came at one thirty to have lunch with the Evanses. Mr. and Mrs. Evans greeted her happily and excitedly. Sharpay and Zeke had gone out to see his mother, his father and his little sister, but Kelsi assured her that Sharpay and Zeke would be at the reunion. At this word, Gabriella felt a twinge of fear as she instantly recalled her dream, but quickly shook it off. It was just a dream after all. Mrs. Evans happily begged them all to get lots of photographs for her to look at and they all had to reassure her that all three had brought their cameras and Ryan, to calm her further, decided to take a few photos. Gabriella found herself smiling nervously between Kelsi and Mr. Evans, hoping that she didn't appear too uptight in her crisp brown suit coat, red and pink-striped button-up shirt and black jeans.

She finally got back to the hotel at five fifteen that evening and called a quick greeting to Georgie, who was sitting once more at the counter, as she ran to the elevator.

When she entered the hotel room, Taylor was there to greet her.

"Oh my God! Where were you? I thought you said three forty-five!"

"I know, I know!" Gabriella said, tossing her bag on the chair that sat—for unknown reasons—near the door. "I'm sorry! The Evanses held me up!"

"Figures!" said Taylor as she walked into her own room. A few minutes later, after Gabriella had stepped out of the shower (for the second time that day), she called from her half of the en suite. "Gabi! How do you think this looks?"

Gabriella walked in, wearing a bathrobe, her hair dry but still held up in rollers. Taylor was wearing cream colored peep-toe heels and a dress that began with a faded-blue silk bodice which cut off at the waist and was attached to a darker blue skirt, held away from her legs by dozens of tiny pleats. Gabriella gave a little gasp and smiled.

"You look amazing, Taylor," she said, as she reached out to touch the stiff, silk skirt. "It's gorgeous."

"Thanks." Taylor smiled, looking a little relived. "My sister made it for me. She... she loves to sew so..."

"You look really great," Gabriella said. "I'm going to go put on my dress and heels and do my make-up and stuff, okay?"

"Sure, I've got to do my make-up too."

It only took Gabriella twenty-five minutes to get ready and, once she had finished, she paused for a few minutes in front of the mirror to admire her handy work. She had used a little dark eye make-up to give her eyes a smoky look. Her lips were covered with a light layer of reddish-pink lipstick and she had applied a little blush to her cheeks. Her dress looked just as perfect as it had the day that she tried it on and her black, round-toed heels shone in their new, unscuffed glory. Her dark brown hair fell around her face in large, round curls, almost covering her single pearl earrings, and adding to the semi-vintage look of the outfit.

"Gabriella, you look perfect," said Taylor, coming up behind her friend and looking in awe at her outfit. "You're still quite the knock-out."

"Not as much as you," said Gabriella, stepping off to the side so that she could see Taylor's reflection as well. "You really look great!"

Taylor smiled and looked at her watch. "Oh my God, we have to get going. Didn't you say Ryan was going to pick you up?"

"Yeah." Gabriella grabbed her black patent leather clutch and her short suit coat before taking off down the hallway with Taylor.

=-----=-----=

=-----=-----=

**I AM A TERRIBLE PERSON!!!**

**I am **_**so**_** sorry I haven't updated this. My summer was so messed up and school—as it always does—ate my life. I'm really, really sorry. I actually had this chapter written for a while and I honestly can't remember why I didn't post it. Anyway, if anyone still reads this; thank you—you mean so much to me.**

**The reunion is in the next chapter. Please review!**

**-OFSI**


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